


Moonlight Sonata

by commanderlexacoon



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: AND THE LIGHT TO MEET IT, Anger, Angst, Darkness rises, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, HIS EQUAL IN THE LIGHT WOULD-okay ill stop, Hate to Love, I WARNED MY YOUNG APPRENTICE THAT AS HE GREW STRONGER, Idk how long thisll be, Love/Hate, My First Smut, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sad Ending, Seduction, Slow Burn, Smut, Still, angel mallory, angel/witch hybrid, fiona is backkkk somewhat, flashbacks from both side, ill change the tags as i write, mallory's personal life too, michael is very intrigued by mallory yet he thinks its "the need to defeat her", other shit btw, tate is a bad father, violet is emo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderlexacoon/pseuds/commanderlexacoon
Summary: Michael Langdon rebuked the very idea of a prophecy that foretold of a being in the light coming to destroy him. He never believed it; however, until she came, and only time would tell what would become of his equal in the light.





	1. | Playlist |

**_ Moonlight Sonata _ **

_**\-----------** _

_i. **moonlight sonata -** beethoven_

 

_ii. **the**   **hate inside -** tommee profit ft. sam tinnesz_

 

_iii. **kill our way to heaven -** michl_

 

_iv. **far from home (the raven) -** sam tinnesz_

 

_v. **smokestacks -** layla_

 

_vi. **dark star**  - jaymes young_

 

_vii. **start a war -** klergy ft. valerie broussard_

 

_viii. **i found -** amber run_

 

_ix. **love and war -** fleurie_

 

_x. **cold -** aqualung ft. lucy schwartz_

 

_xi. **radioactive -** koda_


	2. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many times can you chip the porcelain before it all shatters to pieces? And who ends up with the bloodiest hands after its all said and done?

_**Mallory's POV** _

 

"I am glad you decided to accept my offer, Mallory," Michael purred with a sudden slam of the doors following.

Her heart had raced faster than his eyes had trailed her when she first stepped into his office. Mallory couldn't believe herself when she accepted to partake in his signature and looming interviews. Coco and Gallant both had told her that it wouldn't even be worth significance, yet she accepted the escort by Ms. Mead anyways which landed her in the devil's claw.

Now, she sat obediently in the black leather chair arranged by the blazing fire; the only source of light that she had known for what seemed like ages. The room itself held a chilling gloomy and monstrous atmosphere to it, adding to the dark and trembling pressure that even his simple greeting had. She could feel him awaiting her response in the heavy tension that was settling upon her like a feather. Yet Mallory, in the place that she was, considered how she was even supposed to respond to the man who's echoing footsteps approached her slowly.

"I must say, you were the only Gray who bothered to let me interview them. The others were just too terribly anxious to even leave their quarter." She could hear the grin practically from his dignified tone. 

Mallory fumbled with the coarse apron fabric that laid flat across her knees.  _I was almost one of them who stayed, too,_ she thought but did not answer. Michael didn't particularly scare her, but he didn't enlighten her either like he did for Coco and Gallant. Of all the pain and boredom of staying in the Outpost had caused her, only Michael Langdon could excite her tired and feeble soul, yet  **not**  in a positive way.

Every time she laid her hazel eyes upon his cloaked elegance, a gnawing anxiety and a wave of indifference would always follow like a prick of a needle. But in no way was Mallory ever afraid of this man.

"They're cautious of your kind of people," Mallory blurted with slightly more disdain then she had intended. Michael paused for a time-telling moment, his breathing had hitched at her blatant reply. Twice now has she caught him be surprise, the first being during his introduction to the survivors in the Outpost.

He begun his usual promenade to the twin black chair that faced directly across from her, but Mallory's gaze was completely locked to amber-glowed wall a few feet behind the chair. At first, Mallory expected him to await her apologetic submission for answering audaciously. Yet Michael only eased himself into the chair; his head being slightly tilted and his vibrant blue eyes peaked with prominent interest.

"My kind of people? Elaborate." Michael questioned, his brow furrowed and his lips on the verge of a ghostly smile. Mallory swallowed hard and raised an eyebrow, calculating if Michael had baited her any way.

She was without words, fearing that anything else she would respond with would come off as harsh in the moment. Yet Michael waited patiently, skimming her with his non-blinking, sky blue eyes. "They..." Mallory began, garnering a reaction from Michael with his eyebrows now raising. "They don't think it's worth it, I guess..." she quipped, changing the subject. Michael took notice, she sensed, yet he inclined his head in agreement. 

"They think salvation depends on what's in a man's pockets, am I correct?" 

That was the obvious answer, yet Michael and her both knew there was more to it than that. Why bother living, even in peace, anymore? That was at least their viewpoint, along with her's. But the same couldn't be said for the Purples, or Venable, for that matter. To survive was above all else, even power. 

"Sort of..." Mallory whispered, flicking her eyes briefly up to his. His eyes had grown surprisingly soft from their livid gaze only a few moments earlier. Yet that was as brief as it had come. 

Michael chuckled darkly to himself and slowly rose from his chair, clasping his hands behind his back while striding towards the far desk. "You never did answer my original question though, Mallory." 

Mallory pressed her lips into a thin line as her mouth went dry. This is a trap or something, he wants to know how I view him. He was going to try to bring out her worst, she could sense it. She wasn't that fucking stupid like Coco might have told him. She wasn't the smartest, but she was certainly not stupid. 

"I don't really have a preference on the subject, Mr. Langdon. And...I'm not entirely sure what my fellow Grays think either. I was only speaking from what I observed," Mallory responded as neutral as she felt she could have come across. 

"There was no need to avoid the question, Mallory. But if it makes you as uncomfortable to answer as I sense it does, then you don't have to." 

Mallory could once again hear the grin through his seductively painted words. He really was one to get straight to the point, skip around it unpredictably, then play with the feelings of uncertainty and surprise of whoever it affected. And it had only been ten minutes since she started the interview...

"But I do have one question..."

_Oh shit, what now..._

"You have a distaste towards the Purples, yet you wish to be one. Jealousy has no place in a world like this anymore, Mallory. Though you seem to covet what you don't have, which is incredibly selfish, wouldn't you agree Mallory?"

He had a point, but he wasn't entirely correct. And that was his entire plan.

_Don't let him do this to you Mallory, he's only trying to bring out the worst. Don't slip._

"It's not that at all," she retorted, "I-

"You're lonely?"

"I'm left out. I'm not jealous. There's a difference," she spat. 

"But is there? I did some research on you Mallory and something did indeed catch my eye." His bright blue eyes were as livid as a wild dog's now. He turned away from her and began to pace in a small, prowling trot. "You were in the same group that Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt dispatched with, yet you were not placed in the same rank as she was. But isn't that expected, Mallory? For your boss to be of a higher rank?"

"I just want to be with the people I came with, really. It's not that hard to understand." She snapped, causing him to raise his eyebrows for the second time. "I meant no offense, Mallory." He defended.

_Liar,_ she retorted in her head. He paused a bit longer, perhaps too long, and then turned back around to face her. "I just wanted to find the truth out about you. I'd liked to know who I'd be living out my days with in the sanctuary...the true soul. I don’t have time for the masked."

"There isn't much to find out about me, just so you know," Mallory snorted, watching his eyes trail over her as if to see if she was lying. "I'm sure that's not true. Everyone has something inside of them, waiting to be found out and read like a religious text," he smirked darkly. "You see, that's a little gift of mine..." 

His smirk faded into a look of discrete interest that seemed to travel perpetually. "...I can see into the dark places that people desperately try to keep hidden."

"I don't have any dark places, if you're wondering," Mallory replied with a hint of defiance, feeling herself build up the same anger she had finally repressed. It seemed like a foolish response, even after he had witnessed her anger flare up just minutes ago. But that wasn't darkness, especially not the kind he was apparently seeking out in her.

Nevertheless, Michael furrowed his brow and contemplated her words with thought. "Oh...really? None at all?"

He began to prowl towards her like a hungry beast, another calculating question forming upon his plump lips. "Let me offer another inquiry for you. So even though you've worked for Coco for many years...and even after she saved your life after the bombs fell, why do I believe that you'd love nothing more than to pick up anything sharp enough to cut clay and slice her throat down...to the bone?"

Michael studied her for a painstakingly and brief second, his eyes almost seemed black as ebony in the harsh light. "I think that qualifies, Mallory. Wouldn't you?"

_My God, this took a morbid turn..._

"Look," Mallory sighed, peering up at the tall blonde. "She may be somewhat of a handful. And yes, sometimes she makes me do things I'd rather not do. But, mind you, that doesn't make me want to kill her. She's helpless, she needs me. Despite what you may think, hating a job doesn't make you turn into a fucking psychopath."

Michael was certainly amused by her response, a serene smile dancing across his lips. "Out of the people whom I have interviewed so far, you'd be the first to have that stance..."

"Well, they'd certainly admit to anything you alluded to if it meant getting out of this place or possibly...sleeping with you. Maybe both," Mallory told him. Michael's eyes gleamed with that sense of warmth he had briefly at the start of the interview once again, and he nodded with the ghost of a lost smile. "Maybe..." 

Though both were now in a perpetual moment of silence, Mallory felt strangely comforted by it. The more she didn't have to speak or possibly become undone by the pull of a thread, the better. But she knew that this would last as fast as it came.

"May I ask why you continuously defend yourself against your acquaintances? It almost is as if you view yourself... _above_  them. But a woman with 'no dark places' such as yourself, you most certainly don't see yourself above other pieces of precious life, would you?"

"Of course I don't!" Mallory denied, taken aback by his question for once.  "I just...I just don't see why anyone denounces their dignity even when their life is at stake."

Michael chuckled, yet it almost seemed genuinely chaste aside from his usual smirk. "I agree with that, Mallory. You want a world without the hypocrisy. You want a world without the masks that people put on simply like winter gloves. And I respect that..."

For the first time in the interview, it seemed as if they were at least on an agreement with one thing. Maybe we are close to finishing. I fucking pray to God that we are.

"You see, what is interesting to me is how hypocrisy was what made the old world spin on its axis. You simply could not have a humane world without cheating or killing, and it was all for naught. You murder someone's loved one and they expect you to treat them like they just offered you a taste of heaven. It was morbidly pathetic, really."

Mallory didn't know whether she was supposedly to agree with him or remain silent. She was finally on the same current with this man, and by now after he had picked her apart like a rose flower, she was just more than ready to leave. So taking that into consideration, she nodded silently with stern and confident eye contact. 

"To continue on that note, I never really understood the world, much like you. You see, the old world lived under a set of rules: thou shalt not kill, thou shalt love thy neighbor, etc., etc...." Michael trailed, approaching her slowly while his ocean blue irises took her hazel ones captive. She could sense, though now too late, that she had not just walked herself into the exit of this interview, but just only to the second act.

"Like you, I want a world without the hypocrisy. With the kinds of people who wouldn't just eat from the fruit of the forbidden tree but who'd cut the fucking tree down and use it for fire wood." Michael's eyes were almost as alive and blazing as the fire that remained to the left of them.

He now was kneeling before her, with their bodies only inches apart from another, which sent chills down her spinal cord and turned her lungs into concrete immediately. With the slight graze of his right hand against her knee and the slow escalation of his left hand, she could feel her senses screaming at her to bolt. Something about this felt supernaturally disturbing, as if the person she was hiding beneath her skin was beckoned to come forth, but in the most seductive and terrifying way. 

"After this interview and finally having you open up to me, I think you're made for that world, Mallory." His voice began to soften to that of a whisper while his finger slowly caressed the side of chin. Mallory did her best to contain her rapidly churning emotions from spilling, yet how could she control what she didn't even know? Michael continued his otherworldly seduction, if that was even the correct word to phrase for what he was doing, as he dragged his fingers lazily against her trembling flesh. "I sense it in you..." he whispered.

She winced while fighting back tears. This had to be him making her feel this way, it just had to! What else would it even be? Why would she be feeling this way if it wasn't for him?

Mallory wasn't particularly religious, but she was no skeptic, not even to what was inside her. Ever since she could remember, something had laid dormant within her, waiting for the prime chance to unleash itself with carnal joy. But it wasn't until now did she ever believe it would. And now, something told her, almost screaming, that whatever was going on now was nothing if not paranormally induced by none other than Michael himself.

"I want to leave," she demanded, her voice cracking under the pressure she felt quaking beneath her skin. "You're afraid, aren't you..." Michael pitied, his brow furrowed. His expression eased into that of a gleeful smile, and it like watching a child in a way. "...of accepting who you are, Mallory."

So this way him doing it. She wanted to scream, but with any sudden movement she felt it would also set free the force within her. Instead, she just responded through gritted teeth. "I don't know who I am. Let me go, or stop whatever you are doing at once."

She had finally cracked under pressure with his taunts that night, the last quip he shot her with was only the softest and seemingly innocent one of all. What a fool she had been to let her guard down too soon...

"What do you mean you don't know who you are? You seemed pretty certain of yourself earlier? Please explain, Mallory," he cooed in a whispering inquiry. She felt obligated to answer, despite the obvious notion not to.

"It's not that. It's more of what's...inside of me. Sometimes, I can...feel it. Sometimes, I feel like there's something, or someone, buried inside of me. Someone trying to claw their way out." 

Michael leaned in further, allowing her to see his almost completely dilated pupils in the light of the fire. "Who?"

"I..." Mallory trailed, her voice hitching as tears spilled down her rosy cheeks. "I...don't know. I'm just afraid. I feel like there's someone in me who expects me to do something. Something I can't bring myself to do. And it's hurting me." With that, Mallory hid her face away from the man who had weakened her down to the earth below her feet.

She felt ashamed of being so vulnerable in the presence of the man who had brought her to her knees in the first place, yet she had finally regained control of the force within her. That was all that mattered now. She may not have been in control of the circumstances physically, but a mental battle had just been temporarily won. Once again, that was all that mattered.

Wiping her tears away, she glanced up to see a towering Michael Langdon, and the very sight sent an alarming chill down every inch of her bones. He was...confused. Genuinely confused, and in deep contemplation. He was almost in what seemed like a trance-like state, as if her words had turned him to stone. But judging the circumstances, she wouldn't be surprised if they did.

"Am...I at least free to go now?" Mallory asked, regaining her will to speak after eons of silence. Michael didn't respond, nor did he even seem acknowledge the words that slipped out of her mouth. 

Taking the chance, she hopped out of the chair and scurried to the door of the office, keeping her head low and arms tied directly behind her back. Did she just outwit Michael Langdon? Was this the being within her's doing? Or was something else swirling in his mind as well...

"You're in."

Mallory stopped dead and cold in her tracks, her eyes widening. Did..did I just hear him right?  Turning to face the statuesque Michael, she saw his quivering lips being to form the two words one last time. But she did not wait for it this time. Instead, she fumbled with the doorknob and flew out the door with less woman-like grace than she'd be able to admit.

She just had to leave, she couldn't bear it anymore that night. Not him. He had allowed his demons to dance with hers, and it was still waiting for the next offer of their horrifying waltz.

Yet, even as she left, her ears still caught the haunting echo of Michael Langdon's second answer.

_"You're in."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! First chapter YAYAYAYAY! Okay so yeah this is a bit canon divergence as you can see, but this is why it's called fanfiction lol. So apparently Mallory is in and something they both said registered in different yet life-changing ways. YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT FIRST IMPRESSIONS THO AND I THINK THESE TWO REALLY HIT IT OFF. Anyways, hope you guys found this interesting, it made sense, and ya'll will continue to read the next chapters (next chapter will be Michael's POV and it'll interchange just like that). thanks!


	3. Lord Prepare Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael begins to realize that Mallory is no longer stable for the Outpost, especially when the person inside of her is itching to come out. In turn, this causes him to take immediate action in their departure from the Outpost.

_ **Michael's POV** _

 

Something wasn't right, and Michael Langdon knew it. 

Her word's still echoed throughout his mind, escalating in volume before diminishing to the slightest whisper. It wasn't that he related to her apparent struggle, yet her pleas struck him like a knife. _Who was she? Where did she come from? Were there more like her? Did Father send her? Did the witches send her? Why the hell was she even here, or alive?_

Arrays of worrisome inquiries filled his mind up to the brim, just nearly overflowing. He didn't entirely fear her; however, she was certainly a wonder that needed to be tamed. He couldn't let her die like he planned for the other scum that wallowed in the Outpost. 

No, he had to watch her. What if she was a test for him? What if she was to aid him? What if she was nothing of any quaint importance whatsoever? Only time would tell, and when it did, a life would up in the hands of fate.

Michael had left the office with a monstrous concoction of dread, defeat, and possible satisfaction.

He straightened himself up and redrew the painted mask of elegance he carried with pride, for he would _never_ allow the tragedy of his vulnerability to walk the halls freely in this dreaded Outpost. The man stalked through the halls of the dimly lit corridor towards his chamber, preparing to send an elite and crucial message to the Cooperative regarding his decision. _They_ were in for a surprise; though, as Michael had strictly promised that he wasn't bringing any living soul back with him to the sanctuary in the first place. 

He couldn't let Mallory slip through his starving claws just yet, though. He **needed** her, he could **sense** it. She was brought to him for some purpose one way or another-

"Mr. Langdon," a handsomely opulent voice with the signature thump of a wooden cane echoed from behind him. A tranquil smile crept upon Michael's lips at the sound of the deliberate and orderly tone in _her_ voice...yet he did not slow his pace.

"I do apologize, my dear Ms. Venable, but whatever is swimming inside that gorgeous head of yours shall have to wait. I am rather busy."

" _Mr. Langdon_ ," Venable reiterated, exasperation flowing from each consonant that her silver-tongue emphasized. He stopped leisurely and chuckled, imagining her eyes half-way stuck in her skull from rolling in annoyance due to his blatant disregard. "Consistency intrigues my interest, luckily for you, my dear Venable. What do I owe the _pleasure_ this evening?"

"What the actual hell is wrong with you?" Venable gnashed, taking time to pronounce every syllable with resentment. Michael's brow furrowed and he turned quite slickly on his heels. Her eyes were almost as beady as the rich pearls that graced her porcelain neck. 

She begun to approach him like a mother scolding a child, her grip tightening on the cane as if she were about to bash his head straight into the waxed floor.  "You think you can strode into _my_ terminal, set ablaze to the infrastructure, and expect to walk away with the pleasure of your will?" 

Michael couldn't help but laugh at the gothic mistress who remained steaming with anger only a few feet away. "What ever do you mean, Ms. Venable? Did you happen to trip on the corner of a woolen carpet again? I'm not sure _I'm_ even to blame for that happening..."

Her eyes widened in ferocious anger, and she stalked closer to him with her cane leaving powerful indentions in the floorboard. "I will not tolerate your acrimony, especially considering the havoc you've sent through our halls at this time of night."

He caressed her icy knuckled hand that had a death grip on her cane. "I _only_ asked a question," he feigned innocently. Venable let out a slight growl under her burgundy painted lips, and he could've sworn that he noticed her left eye twitching in rage. "Whatever you put into that Gray's head, I should have you discharged for. What she did was outrageously unacceptable, and you're the only one to blame for it."

_Mallory._

He raised his eyebrows nonchalantly, suppressing the twinge of shock he felt leave as fast as it had come. Michael licked his lips and laughed coldly, looking Venable directly in her cold, winter gray eyes.

"You think this is _funny_?" She said almost deadpan, jerking her hand away from his vexatious touch. 

"Oh, I think I'm just morosely  _impressed_ , Ms. Venable," Michael accused charmingly. "Bold of you to reprimand me for something you're in authority over. They're _your_ servants, are they not?"

Venable let out a raspy laugh, her jaw twitching with vehement anger. "It is in my very _authority_ to exercise control, and I seek out the problem if necessary. And it seems that today's problem is 5 ft. 11 with a grotesque sense of fashion."

Michael cocked an eyebrow, though fiercely enjoying the brief duel of insults they were sharing in the meager corridor, he knew that it had to be cut short. He had other problems to deal with other than Venable's bewails...even if his certain _problem_ happened to be the subject of her lamenting. With a heavy sigh, Michael turned of the heels of his slick black Salvatore Ferragamo's and pursued his chamber room once more.

"Where are you going?" Venable demanded. "This is still your indirect transgression, Mr. Langdon. Whatever you put into that girl's head gave her the ludicrous courage to take matters into her own hands. I will not have any more of these rebellious outbursts coming from lowlifes like the Grays...especially whenever the primary motive came from _you_."

"For fuck's sake, Ms. Venable," Michael exclaimed breathlessly. "After getting to know her quite _personally_ , I can assure you that Mallory is by far one of the quietest and most obedient minions you claim to own. And she still is. Everyone has their off days too, and I can assure you that our interview had no motivational cause behind whatever happened," Michael replied. Yet...this was of course a lie. He knew with every bone in his body that his words were most likely what had pushed Mallory into the havoc she wreaked according to Venable. _This was only a more surefire reason to leave as soon as possible,_ Michael said to himself.

"...And besides, who was she even arguing with?" Michael continued as he regained himself, not sparing her another glance. 

"That Vanderbilt girl. But-"

"Aha! There's your problem," Michael concluded with a joyful mantra. "Now, as I told you, I am very busy. It was a pleasure conversing with you Ms. Venable. Love to finish this conversation possibly another time!" 

"Mr. Langdon, you can't just take responsibility for your actions, can you?" Venable exclaimed with a harsh laugh, her anger peaking. Michael was now standing in his vestibule, his head peaking out of from behind the classic mahogany door while showing his complete disregard in a prideful smile.

"Yes I do, Ms. Venable. I take responsibility for defending my honest and upright position as the wrongfully accused. Maybe consider treating your _'lowlifes'_  with a bit more respect, would you? Maybe they wouldn't have these outburst, you know. Oh, and when you see Mallory again, tell her to stop by my office. I'd _love_ to hear from her how Vanderbilt's hair stood vertically on end after her dignity was perpetually threatened for the first time..."

"Mr. Landgon-"

The door had slammed shut before Michael had even caught the last bit of Ms. Venable's rage. He heaved a sigh and strutted over to his desk in the far corner, candles being the only source of light that illuminated his dreadful room.

Flipping the lid of his laptop computer open, he peered down at the numerous email drafts he had planned on sending to the Cooperative regarding his plans to execute the life in Outpost 3. 

Michael pursed his lips and slid lazily into the black leather chair, deleting every single draft with ease and regret. He could hear the hypocrisy in his own words when he would have to explain...without going into detail...how this young woman's life was far more detrimental than all the others that remained in the Outpost.

He couldn't, of course, let them _know_ the power he sensed in her. It was his own secret; and like the rest of his that he held, he preferred not sharing it.

 _How would I even justify myself to these people?_ Michael thought distressed. He had told them that they were the Chosen Few, and that they'd to abandon their loved ones or anyone else who may have been significant in their lives after the bombs fell. And here he was, about to waltz in with a woman who had _all_ the significance in the world to him.

He wanted a world without the hypocrisy, yet that was exactly what he was appearing to disregard. The rank of "boss" only took Langdon so far, and it would **not** be the most reasonable excuse for how his actions were to be justified in the eyes of flawed human beings.

The man balled his fist in anger. _If Ms. Mead were in here, she'd know what to say. Wait, no she wouldn't, she doesn't have any recollection of what she even means to me. Or how she could even help me right now with how to figure out this damn email. Just think Michael, just think..._

After what seemed like ages, Michael Langdon then had an idea. It was precarious, but if he maneuvered it correctly, he could just achieve two detrimental aims at once. Holding it close to the very tip of his poisonous tongue, he began to type with proud certainty...

_'Hello dear friends, I have a slight discrepancy I'd like to apologize for. By less than two days from now, I will be joining you all in our glorious sanctuary permanently. But that is not the only news I have to share. Regarding the survivors of Outpost 3, I have come across a willing female to whom I think would be biologically fit in replacing the **late Wilhemina Venable** in her rank as a high matriarch in the Cooperative. She had an unfortunate accident, but we shall prevail without her. I will see each and every one of you all very soon._

_~ Langdon_

 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 A slight tapping on the door to his bedroom awoke Langdon from a not-so harmonious sleep. He rose up slowly from the black satin mattress, easing himself to stand while somewhat vexed by the intrusion at such an hour in the dead of night. If Venable was back with her typical incongruities, Michael found himself itching for her accident to come sooner than ever. Buttoning his ebony black jacket after dressing to be the least bit presentable, Michael glided to the door, expecting the flaming gothic matriarch when instead he received-

"Mallory," Michael greeted her astonished. She appeared like that of a frightened mouse; her hazel eyes darting wildly as she shakily stepped into Langdon's chamber. His eyes followed the Gray's precarious and worried movements as she made her timid way to his chair, the recollection of what he had assigned Venable to do for him coming back with a sharp bite.

"I assume you are here under Venable's instruction," Michael presumed softly. Mallory nodded obediently, and if her anguish from her summoning wasn't evident earlier, it certainly was now. "You don't have to be afraid, Mallory. I didn't summon you to reprimand you. Though I would've preferred an earlier timing than this-"

"She's going to kill me."

 Michael's breath hitched suddenly as the words left her timid mouth. "Who?" He demanded, his brow furrowing and his head shaking. _Did she mean Venable? Or Coco?_

"Who, Mallory?" He reiterated, feeling a slight notion of protectiveness weave its way through his own words. He then knelt before her, as he had done in the interview.

"They'll try their best to do it before she will, but I think she's already started," Mallory gasped, tears sprouting from her innocent doe eyes. Michael lightly stroked her tear-stricken cheek, half-feigning naivety when he understood that she meant herself. It didn't peak his interest as much; however, as much as apparent 'they' she referred to.

"Who is they?" Michael whispered, studying her quivering lip and dolorous eyes like a map of the seven seas. "Venable...Coco... _all_ of them. They're out to get me..." Mallory heaved in anguish. "But I was already dead when-"

"-When you let yourself go, I understand that. But we have more pressing matters. Why would the latter group try to kill you, Mallory?" 

He wasn't as concerned to the beast that laid hungry inside of her, but moreover to the understanding that a possible uprising in the Outpost may occur. He could tolerate Mallory lashing out, but the idea of these squandering and shallow survivors gaining a mind of their own and exercising control flashed a definite warning sign to Michael Langdon.

"They're angry. After the interview..." she gulped, her voice faltering. "...I wanted to be alone. But they mocked me, and...in the mood that I was in, I lashed out. Especially to Coco. And...I told them that I was going to the sanctuary, and they didn't like that."

_For Christ's sake..._

Michael winced at her words, trying to contain his anger. _How could she have been so foolish?_

Well...not that it mattered entirely, but now they'd have to quicken their pace to leave. Michael understood that by morning, the whole Outpost would be a barn full of wild animals; panicking and scheming in their garish glory. It wouldn't be long before they'd realize Mallory spoke the truth, and he'd never hear the end of it without getting slashed with a cleaver a couple of times.

"We all must make haste," Michael began, masking his fading anger with a calculating, demonic smile. "It's a marvelous thing that I have one last trick up my sleeve for today's Halloween masquerade."

Mallory looked at him in confusion, taken back by how placid Langdon was reacting to her confession. "You're not...angry?"

"Oh, of _course_ I'm upset, Mallory, but feelings are an irrelevant concern that is best dealt with after the party," He assured her with a hint of ironic sarcasm. Mallory shook her head, sniffling as her frown deepened. "I...don't know what to say," the Gray whispered. "You're not planning on...killing them all...are you?"

Michael laughed delightedly, which startled Mallory out of her porcelain skin. "Well if I don't, my dear, who will?"

The girl gaped in perfect horror, eliciting another angelic chuckle out of Langdon's mouth. If he had been conversing with anyone else as innocent as she, he would've been sick. Yet there was something about her naivety that couldn't fail in getting a practical arise from him.

"I can't go with you. Not if you fucking murder everyone..." Mallory defied, backing away from his touch as she sped over to the door.

"Can I ask why you _insist_ on defending the people who just hours ago assaulted you with verbal accusations?" Michael demanded, sighing irritated. "I thought you'd be much _obliged_ to see them choking to death on your vengeance, especially since they **never** truly were your allies here in the Outpost."

"It's not that I'm defending _them_ for their actions, I'm defending what is right! You can't just kill _everyone_ you don't like, even if they are deserving!" Mallory cried, causing Michael's eyes to roll in exasperation. 

"Yes, I _can,_ " he retorted, stalking towards the meager mouse by the door. "And I will. They were going to die here anyways, sweetheart. _You_ are the only one who is going to the sanctuary."

Mallory's jaw dropped in surprise, her naivety more evident than the tear stains on her dull gray dress. "I...am?"

"You are."

A heaving and concrete silence quickly followed his breathy reply. They remained locked in each other's swimmingly wondrous gaze for a while, waiting for some sort of thing they could not ponder to come.

It was Michael; though, who took the first physical step towards the woman whom he'd soon would live out his despicably horrid days with.

He then swallowing hard; bringing his hand to her chin and placing a chaste, threatening kiss on her forehead. Feeling her tense beneath his icy lips, he could pitifully yet selfishly enjoy that the feeling of such peculiar affection was foreign to her. "We will leave tomorrow, Mallory. After the masquerade ceases, the Cooperative will escort us to the sanctuary. You and I will never half to be trapped under the reign of anyone else ever again."

But with that in mind, Mallory backed away from him cautiously. "I'm still not sure I want to go..." 

"You will," Michael whispered, a serene yet monstrously evil smile of absolute certainty ghosting across his lips. She knew full well that she was going, but it wasn't from anything he had said. It was from **herself**.

With one last conflicted sigh, she turned on her heels and began to exit the room in agile speed. His elaborate ring-adorned hand; however, caught the door before it could shut. Michael's monstrous smile began to widen as he spoke to her. "Oh, and Mallory, for the party tomorrow..." he trailed.

The Gray stopped in the obediently yet timidly in the hallway, her head inclined in his direction to show that she was listening to Langdon's instructions. 

"...I want you to wear something... _black_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY FRIENDS HI ANOTHER CHAPTER! I hoped you liked the chapter y'all, I really enjoyed writing Michael's sassiness and that special and VERY IMPORTANT Millory moment towards the end. Thanks for reading!


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